James Barclay - Rise of the TaiGethen

More spells flew through the gap, doing little but knocking down already ruined buildings behind the gates. The smells of hot metal and burning wood mixed with smoke in the air. Katura was breached, and the ease with which it had been achieved made Auum wonder why their enemy hadn’t done it hours earlier.

Auum walked towards the ruined gates and peered out onto the scorched field. He straightened in surprise and stood in full view of the enemy, watching them withdraw. Only one man stood there now and he raised a spear with a piece of grubby white cloth tied to it. Small groups of soldiers and mages stopped and turned before reaching their lines. The soldier waved his makeshift flag, took his sword from its scabbard and laid it on the ground.

‘He wants to talk,’ said Ulysan, coming to Auum’s shoulder.

‘I have nothing to say to a human,’ said Auum.

‘You have nothing to lose by hearing him out.’

‘And nothing to gain,’ said Auum. ‘Clearly they feel the battle is won and he is seeking our surrender. He must know we won’t agree.’

‘Talk to him,’ said Ulysan. ‘Takaar always said knowing your enemy gives you an edge. He will give away more than you will. He’s human, after all.’

‘He assumes we respect some white flag? He’s either very brave or very stupid.’

‘He has mages ready to cast should he be struck down. He’s not that stupid.’

Auum thought for a moment. ‘It can do no harm, I suppose. I’ll go.’

‘You should guard yourself as he does.’

Auum shook his head. ‘I am not afraid of them.’

He walked from the gates, keeping his eyes fixed on the human. To his credit, he showed no fear. He stood proud, the spear held in his left hand, its base on the ground and the flag hanging limp from its tip. Auum stopped when he was three paces away, the soldier shielding his body from the mages and close enough to kill his enemy with a single strike.

‘I am Auum, Arch of the TaiGethen,’ he said.

‘I am Jeral, commander of this army,’ replied the man in passable elvish.

‘You? I don’t think so. Three senior soldiers command your force. One we know is dead. Send one of the others.’

‘There has been a change of command,’ replied Jeral.

Auum nodded slowly. That explained the change in tactics, at least.

‘What do you want?’

Jeral smiled. ‘It’s over, Auum. Your gates are gone. I can do the same to your walls tomorrow. I can flood your city with spells and send my soldiers in at the end to finish the rest. We know you have no strength of arms. We respect and fear the TaiGethen but you are terribly few. You have dressed your townsfolk up as soldiers, while I have an army of two thousand here and another two thousand will arrive overnight. We could defeat you without magic, such is our strength.

‘Surrender.’

‘To what end?’ Auum knew the numbers, but to hear them from his enemy’s mouth gave them greater force. ‘We will not become your slaves.’

‘I will give you until first light tomorrow. Any who wish to can leave through your broken gates and surrender to me without fear of death. I have no wish to spill more of your people’s blood.’

‘Liar. We know why you are here. To finish us. To end the elven race. And you may get your wish, but you will pay for it step after bloody step. Send your magic and your swords. We will kill ten of you for every one of us who perishes. You think we are beaten? You know nothing of the spirit of my people.

‘Go back to your army, Jeral. Tell your soldiers that they must defeat the TaiGethen. This is our forest, our land, given to us by Yniss, and he will not turn his back on us. You will not prevail.’

Jeral nodded. ‘So be it. Your words will chase you and your people to your grave.’

‘I look forward to killing you,’ said Auum.

‘Not if I see you first.’

Jeral bowed, turned and walked away. Auum watched him for a moment before trotting back to the gates, where Ulysan was waiting with the TaiGethen.

‘Well?’ asked Ulysan.

‘He does not fear us but some in his army doubt their victory is assured, which is why he seeks a bloodless end. I will not give it to him. We know his numbers and we know what he will do. Come, we have work to do before dawn.’

Serrin granted me an audience some eighty years after he was called to the ClawBound. He showed me the tattoos of the Aryn Hiil text on his back and chest. This, he said, was the pure expression of a Silent Priest.

From ClawBound and Silent by Lysael, High Priest of Yniss

Jeral was enjoying a decent night’s sleep in a hammock near a good roaring fire when the angry shouting disturbed him. He opened his eyes. It was full night. The argument was coming from his left, towards the forward pickets. He’d feared TaiGethen attack during the night and the wards were thick on the ground. Rested mages were ready to cast on anything that crossed the line.

He heaved himself to the ground and belted on his sword. He was joined by other curious soldiers as he walked towards the disturbance. This was high-level stuff. The raised voices were those of Lockesh and Sinese, commander of the second army. Their words were clear long before he saw their fire-lit silhouettes.

‘… know what is best for those under my command. You have no authority over me, Lockesh. Back off.’

‘We have cast all day. We have won the battle. Now your slacklipped charges are here dripping poison into the ears of my mages.’

‘They have a right to know,’ Sinese spat.

His was a tall and broad silhouette. A career soldier, but one for whom the line between command and care was too often blurred.

‘They have no rights,’ Lockesh sneered. ‘They are military mages. They do as they are ordered, the same as every soldier.’

‘I am astonished by your complacency. This is not some trifling matter. Mages could start falling from the sky, or be engulfed by their own flame.’

‘ If! If the Sundering should happen. It has not, and while it has not your mages will join battle with mine. They will fight.’

‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. The camp is awake and hanging on your every word,’ said Jeral, nodding at Hynd, who was standing nearby looking, frankly, frightened. ‘Can I help at all?’

Sinese looked at him as he might look at a smear of shit on his shoe. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I am Jeral, commander of the Ysundeneth army.’

Sinese tipped back his head and roared with laughter.

‘Some good news at last. A real soldier, by the look of you.’ His expression sobered. ‘But no doubt you’re also complicit in hiding the risk our brother mages face.’

‘No, sir. I am anxious to see this battle won before that risk grows any further. What’s happened?’

Lockesh waved a hand at Sinese. ‘In his wisdom, the general relayed Ystormun’s news to all under his command. His mages, he says, are now too scared to cast in case their spells consume them.’

‘The information is clear,’ said Sinese. ‘This battle must be won by sword alone.’

‘We heard different,’ said Lockesh. ‘We heard that the battle must be won at pace to avoid such risks. We have made great strides, but we must use our magical resources tomorrow.’

Jeral nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it, General.’

‘Then put your own mages in the line of danger. Make them cast knowing every construct might bite them without warning.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Jeral. ‘So long as your blades are the first through the gates.’

‘That’s not going to be so easy,’ said Hynd quietly.

‘What? Why?’

‘My Lord Lockesh, if I may?’ Lockesh nodded and Hynd continued: ‘The damage is already done.’